All Roads Lead to You
by Irishluvsjm
Summary: When Sam is presumed dead, Jason sets out on a journey to find himself. Will he find love again? Set during the winter of 2008 after Sam is kidnapped by the Text Message Killer.
1. Prologue

_**All Roads Lead to You**_

Premise

The love of his life is dead and Jason Morgan just wants out. Out of the business, out of making and keeping promises, out of town. Out of his own skin, period.

Gabrielle Williams has one rule in life. Never fall in love.

When these two strangers meet on a deserted road, both are immediately drawn to one another. Gabi quickly realizes that he's running from his life and decides to help. Can she do what she does best and fix Jason's heart without losing her own? Or will she break her only rule?

Will Jason find love where he least expects it? Or will he be forever haunted by his past? Can he ever truly let go of Sam?

Is this just a disaster waiting to happen?

Or the chance of a lifetime?

Prologue

Regrets

_How had this happened?_ How had his life gotten so out of control? When had he become this man he hardly recognized whenever he looked into the mirror every morning? It was supposed to be a one time thing. One night between two very good friends to help erase the images of their significant others with other people.

But life apparently had other ideas. And while he was thrilled about his son he wasn't entirely sure the price he'd paid for him had been worth it. He'd lied to and betrayed the woman he loved. And why? To protect another woman's secrets. What kind of man sold out his own fiancée for another? Even if that woman was the mother of his son, how could he turn his back on Sam and the life they'd fought so hard to have?

He'd destroyed their lives. Sure she'd committed some atrocities of her own, but as a direct result of what he had done to her. She'd been hurt and angry and so full of hatred that she'd struck out in the ways guaranteed to bring him the most pain. First she'd stood by and watched as his son was kidnapped. Then she'd decided to go after Elizabeth by hiring a couple of thugs to threaten her and her sons. And as her final act of revenge she'd lured Elizabeth's husband into her bed.

In the heat of anger derived from absolute frustration, he'd made a few threats of his own. He'd stood right there in her living room, staring her down, and in the coldest voice imaginable had threatened to kill her if she ever did anything to hurt Elizabeth or her children again. Had he meant it? Would he have been able to follow through?

Never in a million years. No matter how angry she made him he could never have physically hurt her. She had been his whole world. She'd suffered enough because of him.

Had he ever told her that though? Had he ever truly apologized for what he and Elizabeth had done to her? He couldn't apologize for Jake. He regretted lying to her, hurting her, but he could never be sorry for sleeping with Elizabeth because right or wrong she had given him a son. But he was sorrier than he could ever express what that night had done to their lives.

Instead of ever telling her that though, he and Elizabeth had gotten all self-righteous, indignant, behaving as if they were the real victims instead of owning up to the truth. That he and Elizabeth had created this web of lies, deceit, and betrayal and whatever the fallout they were responsible for it.

And now it was far too late to say, "I'm sorry". To late to make things right. To late to tell her that he still loved her and that he always would. To late for that future he'd promised her and the children she always wanted with him.

Too late for everything because she was dead. Ironic how he'd once broken up with her in order to keep her safe and finally when she was well and truly away from him, she'd found herself a victim of a serial killer. Sam was gone and she was never coming back because once again he had failed to protect the person he loved the most outside of his son.

Jason forced out a sigh. Oh well, nothing to be done about that now. They had made their decisions and now all any of them could do was go on the best they could. But here? In this place? This town? Their home? The home she'd made for them. The apartment that had stopped being any kind of home the day she'd moved out.

No, he thought determinably shaking his head. He wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to stay in this town, where every corner was filled with memories of her. Where the other part of his soul was being raised by another man because his mother didn't trust him to keep their son safe. Where he was expected to follow orders and not ask questions. Where this person and that person needed him, counted on him, to fix their lives, to advise them, to do everything for them except cut up their meat.

That man was dead. He'd died when Sam had gone over that cliff. He didn't know who he was anymore, but if he had any prayer of finding out, he needed to do it away from here. And if they had ever loved him they'd understand, they'd accept his decision to leave. For so many years he'd sacrificed so much for everyone else. It was past time for someone else to do do the sacrificing.

Walking over to the desk, he sat down behind it, and pulled paper and pen from the top drawer. An old picture of him and Sam stared back at him. He remembered putting it there the day she'd finally had enough of him and moved out for good. They had been so happy here, he mused as he traced a reverent finger over her beautiful smiling face allowing himself to get lost in the memories.

It had been early December, just before he and Sam had left his sister's wedding reception, when Emily had snapped their picture. It had been Sam's first real smile since her daughter had been stillborn the month before. She'd had more than her fair share of champagne and Jason knew she would regret it in the morning, but he'd been so relieved that she was finally enjoying herself. Her tipsy smile had enchanted him and he'd gotten so much joy from watching her.

They had come back here to the penthouse. She'd teased him about catching the garter and how much he'd smiled.

"_Okay, now we are going to do it right here and right now," Sam said as she crossed over to him._

_His head tilted slightly, both brows raised in inquiry. Surely she didn't mean what he thought she meant. She'd had a lot to drink but she wasn't that drunk. Was she?_

"_Dancing," she explained, bringing a halt to his thoughts_

_Immediately, he declined. "No." She'd probably have better luck with the other. He hated dancing with a passion._

"_No." She nodded her head fiercely. "Yeah. Yes."_

"_No."_

"_Yes, seriously."_

"_No," he said sounding like a broken record. _

"_Come on nobody's around."_

"_I don't dance. I can't dance."_

"_Well you do now." Refusing to take no for an answer she grabbed his hands and pulled, with him resisting all the way. "That's fine. I don't want to dance."_

"_You put your arm here."_

"_Sam…"_

"_And then you put your arm here."_

"_I don't want to dance."_

"_And we just…"_

"_Okay, you need… "_

_She sighed. "I'm not gonna bite, please."_

_He tried again. "You need to get some rest."_

"_Please," she said again. "Jason, come on. I doubt I'm even going to remember tomorrow. So.…" She sighed in exasperation. "Please?"_

_Reluctantly, Jason gave in. He'd taken her into his arms and she'd rested her head on his shoulder and for a few moments the world had just faded away. Sometime later, they got tangled together and ended up falling to the floor. He'd ended up on top of her and as he'd gazed down into her beautiful eyes, he'd found himself falling in love. He'd asked if she was okay, but instead of answering, she leaned her head up and planted a kiss on him; their first. And though she'd initiated it, he hadn't resisted and had eagerly kissed her back._

Sighing wistfully, he came out of his reverie. Forcing the now painful images to the farthest corner of his mind, he picked up the pen and began writing.


	2. Chapter 1: Strange Encounters

**Chapter 1**

**The Encounter**

Cursing a blue streak, Gabi Williams, kicked the flat tire on her car. Eyeing it in disgust she kicked it again for good measure. This just sucked, she thought irritably. Using a four letter expletive that would have earned her a serious lashing from her grandmother had she heard her, Gabi dug through her purse for her phone.

"Son of a…" No bars. She'd forgotten to charge it. Again. If her opponents in the courtroom knew how absentminded she could be, they would make mincemeat out of her.

So now what she was going to do? This wasn't exactly a busy freeway with cars passing by every second. Nor was it the country where neighbors were always willing to stop and help a fellow neighbor. It was a highway with two or three passing cars, but people here she'd discovered were a lot like they were in the busy metropolitan areas; wary of helping strangers or rather stranded motorists.

Muttering several choice phrases, she reached through the window to pop the trunk. Stomping over to the rear of the car she shoved it upward and dug through for the tire iron and the jack. Since it was obvious her knight in shining armor wouldn't be showing up today—not that she really wanted one, she'd just have to muddle through this on her own. If she could recite case after case law without missing a beat then surely she could manage a simple tire.

How difficult could it be? Never mind the fact that anytime she had tried in the past, she'd always ended up on her butt and in the dirt, literally. After all how many times had she attempted to drive a stick shift with disastrous results? She'd finally figured that out, hadn't she? Okay, so she hadn't exactly mastered it, but she could do it if she absolutely had too.

So maybe the hundred and fiftieth time would be the charm, she thought kneeling next to the vexing tire. She stared at it and at the two instruments she held, trying to remember what she'd learned when her dad, her older brother, and uncle had tried to teach her the simple act act of changing a tire. Did she use the jack first or did she loosen and remove the lug nuts first?

Chewing her lower lip she went for what seemed the simplest thing first; removing the lug nuts. Ten minutes later she'd lost all but one or two nails, bruised her shin from when the tire iron had slipped and whapped her in the leg, all but shredded her nylons, and she was no closer to getting the stupid nuts loose than she had been when she'd first undertaken the job.

She was bruised, tired, and sweaty which was amazing considering the temperatures were in the lower 40's and it had started to snow. She'd removed her pumps, her wool jacket, and her pretty royal blue fitted suit jacket, but she'd still managed to get grease on the matching skirt and on the white shell blouse. Her hair had all but fallen out of the neat bun she'd pinned it up in.

"Dammit," she swore viciously, when she realized that she'd been turning the tire iron in the wrong direction, thereby tightening instead of loosening the lug nuts. At this rate she'd never finish. Some jogger would probably run across her decaying corpse sometime after the spring thaw.

She nearly wept in relief when she heard the sound of an approaching motorcycle, which instead of driving right past seemed to be slowing down. Standing she shoved her disheveled reddish brown hair out of her face, and waved at the man on the bike. He stopped but instead of getting off right away, he just sat there, engine still running and just looked at her for what felt like an eternity. Ever so slowly and with what looked like reluctance, he turned off the engine and got off the bike, before striding towards her.

And that's when Gabi got her first good look at her savior and nearly swallowed her tongue. His hips were lean, his muscles bulging through his black leather jacket, and he had the face of a Greek God. Or some Hollywood movie star. He walked with a bad boy attitude and didn't so much as smile, but he didn't need it. In fact the fact that he wasn't smiling seemed to add to his appeal. His hair was a shade or two darker than blonde and too light to be brown. It wasn't long but it wasn't exactly short either, stopping just short of the collar of his jacket. And his eyes were the deep blue color of the Agean Sea. "My god, you're gorgeous," she muttered aloud without thinking.

Immediately she cursed the loose tongue she'd seemed to have been born with. She'd always had the tendency to speak without thinking it through—her family called it foot in mouth syndrome. In the courtroom she was as solid, as stoic, and as silent as she needed to be, but out of it, her mouth ran like a faucet.

But if this stranger had heard her comment, he certainly didn't show it. The blank expression on his face did not change at all. He just stood there looking at her with an unnerving study. Finally he spoke. "Need some help?"

Grateful that he'd spoken, she gave a frenetic bob of her head. "Yes, thank you. I was beginning to think I would expire out her before someone stopped. The few cars that have driven by didn't so much as glance in this direction. Well one did but he had this serial killer look about him, if you get my meaning and so I pretended to be talking on my phone. Except I really wasn't because my phone died. Actually I forgot to charge it. Anyway I tried to change it myself but my expertise doesn't seem to extend towards changing tires."

Oh bother, she thought irritably. Now she was rambling. He must think she was a real ninny. And helpless to boot.

Again though he showed no emotion. He merely held out his hand. For half a heartbeat she could just stand there, looking at him like some freak or something. Seeming to take no offense or care in the world, really he nodded patiently towards the tire iron she still clutched in her left hand. "Oh sorry," she muttered, quickly handing it over when she realized what he was asking for.

Nodding once more, he retreated to the front end of her car. Kneeling next to the tire, he treated her to a world class view. Though his jeans were baggy they did nothing to detract from the fact that he had a seriously nice ass.

Lips curving upward, she leaned against the car and watched him work. Marveling at the short amount of time it seemed to take him to both remove the tire and put the spare one on. Probably less than ten minutes from start to finish. Once he was finished, he got back onto his feet and as effortlessly as he'd removed the spare tire from the trunk, he placed the bad one in the trunk.

Closing it, he wiped his gloved hands down the front of his denims. Belatedly she noticed those strange looking gloves with the fingers cut out of them. They weren't the standard biker gloves, these weren't leather. In fact upon closer exam they looked kind of like the wrist guards she'd seen one of the secretaries wearing at the firm where she'd worked, for her carpal tunnel. He'd been hurt.

"Oh your hands," she gasped in dismay. Automatically she reached out to touch one of his gloved hands, but then quickly yanked it back before she made any real contact. This man was a stranger, she chided herself. One she had no business touching.

Funny, but he didn't feel like a stranger, a small part of her argued back. Looking into those azure blue eyes she'd felt a certain kinship with him. His face may have been devoid of any expression, a true block of ice, but those eyes had told a far different story. They spoke of pain, and loss, and regrets.

And Gabi had always had a weakness for the walking wounded. She'd taken in more strays, both of the human and animal variety, than any one she knew. Once she patched them up she set them free. She was known as the rebound girl, because every single relationship she'd had had been with someone who was on the rebound.

Curling her hands into tight fists down at her sides, she locked those feelings away and returned to the matter at hand. Using her head, she gestured towards his hands. "I…I hope you didn't reinjure yourself helping me."

He glanced downward, seemingly surprised, as if he'd forgotten all about the gloves. Jaw tightening slightly, he curled his fingers into the material of his jeans. "It's fine," he said shortly. They watched one another for another seemingly endless minute, before he broke the contact and turned around and started walking back to his bike.

"Wait," she called after him. He stopped but he did not turn. "Uh…how much do I owe you? For the tire," she explained lamely, when he glanced at her over his shoulder, one brow arced in question.

"No charge." Again he started away.

For some reason she wasn't ready to see him leave. This connection or whatever it was she was feeling towards him, was freaking her out, but it wasn't something she could turn away from either. It had been a really long time since she'd felt this quickening of her heartbeat, in her blood. In just a few minutes, with even fewer words spoken, she felt more alive than she had in what seemed forever.

"That doesn't seem right," she said, quickening her stride to meet up with him. Hand on the handlebar, he glanced curiously at her. "You stopped when no one else would," she explained then. "You risked further injury to yourself to help me. I feel like I owe you something."

The handsome stranger gave a quick shake of his head, a strand of his hair dipping endearingly into his face. She fought back the urge to brush it off. "You don't."

Man, even his voice was sexy; low and gravely. Husky. "Well how about a cup of coffee then," she offered. "There's a great place a few miles up the road. Best coffee in the state."

He hesitated half a heartbeat, seemingly torn. There was a flicker of something, longing maybe in his Paul Newman blue eyes, but he quickly banked it and whatever she read was gone. Shaking his head, he climbed onto the bike. "No. Thanks," he added almost as an afterthought. Dipping his head in a nod of farewell, he started the bike. Seconds later he was roaring down the highway, a huge puff of black smoke the only evidence that he had even been there.

Probably just as well, she thought walking back to her car. She wasn't a relationship person. Sex, yes. Dating even, but actual real commitment? Uh-uh, no thanks. Not for her. And from what she'd seen, with the exception of her paternal grandparents, not really for anyone else either. If real love existed and that was a very big if, it definitely did not last.


End file.
